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Catching up on emails from my mother
Hi new folk to this LJ!
Ever wonder why Phnee is the way she is? Wonder no more! If you look up the word "eccentric" in the dictionary, there is a picture of my mother. She is also way awesome.
In short, I come by all my crazy honestly, as well as how I write, why I write, and why most of my opinions are the way they are. I am nothing if not my parents' daughter.
Sent February 24th:
Angel,
Can't resist telling you about my visit to Kim Phat today.
A Cambodian (?) marché on a discreet side-street off Cote des Neiges. I was looking for a vulgar celery when I was confronted with rows and rows of strange veggies (that might actually have been fruits) I have never seen before. Some looked like bundles of long green rope, some like glass beads, some fermented black beans... (I was told). I discreetly poked and smelled and wound up with a small shriveled cucumber-like object with a skin like an armadillo - all it needed was four little feet and two beady eyes to take off.
I was so fascinated with its bumpy skin covered with weird extrusions that I bought it. I forgot the celery.
Daddy was not impressed.
But I hope it won't evaporate so you can eventually see it.
Tons of love, Mim
Sent February 28th:
Angel,
A brief word to advise you NOT to buy tickets for "Les Essais, d'après Montaigne". Daddy wanted to walk out halfway before the end of the play. It was turned into a Québécois burlesque farce, dans le genre of Juste Pour Rire. Appalling. The Molière was apparently in the same vein.
Mim
A/N: Too bad. I usually love the stuff produced by Le Théatre du Sous-marin Jaune," but I am inclined to believe my mother on this one, and so I gave it a miss. The last production had me in stitches.
Sent the same day, titled "A small rant about Greece & art."
Angel, re the finacial débâcle in Greece:
I understand virtually nothing about derivatives or currency trades - but I do love the new phrase, "creative accounting". Actually, I didn't even know that a country could be a client of a particular bank & its accountants.
I read in the Financial Post that Goldman Sachs creates "custom-made financial instruments" for countries on the Continent. What are those things? Do I not understand English any longer? Why can't my accountant create these lovely things for me? I will definitely suggest it to him.
And I thought the art world was dead! (Note the Whitney Biennial in NY). The art critic of the NYTimes writes it:
"... reflects the retrenched art-about-art spirit of the day". What in the world is this man saying? About the Boltansky exhibition at the Grand Palais in Paris - the one made up of old clothes. It inspires me to lay out all my old clothes on the living-room floor, making sure they point in the same direction, and presto! ART for posterity. Whoever would have thought my old underwear was worth millions.
Are all the latent Tiepolos now working for banks?
A/N: Be it known that my mother actually has a MFA, and not only is a painter, but was trained by Arthur Lismer (part of the "Group of Seven") and actually studied art history among other things. She knows whereof she speaks, in this case, and isn't just spouting off randomly.
Sent March 18th:
Angel, thought you might want to know this:
There was a very successful Tarzan exhibition at the Musée du Quai Branly in Paris in autumn last year.
Apparently the curator of the exhibition has a sense of humour. His comment on the law passed in France during the 30's banning the Tarzan movies:
"For the Catholics, it was the nudity, for the Communists, it was the fact that he was a violent, unemployed aristocrat who ate bananas."
So much for pure cartesian logic.
Trillion bises, Mim
Ever wonder why Phnee is the way she is? Wonder no more! If you look up the word "eccentric" in the dictionary, there is a picture of my mother. She is also way awesome.
In short, I come by all my crazy honestly, as well as how I write, why I write, and why most of my opinions are the way they are. I am nothing if not my parents' daughter.
Sent February 24th:
Angel,
Can't resist telling you about my visit to Kim Phat today.
A Cambodian (?) marché on a discreet side-street off Cote des Neiges. I was looking for a vulgar celery when I was confronted with rows and rows of strange veggies (that might actually have been fruits) I have never seen before. Some looked like bundles of long green rope, some like glass beads, some fermented black beans... (I was told). I discreetly poked and smelled and wound up with a small shriveled cucumber-like object with a skin like an armadillo - all it needed was four little feet and two beady eyes to take off.
I was so fascinated with its bumpy skin covered with weird extrusions that I bought it. I forgot the celery.
Daddy was not impressed.
But I hope it won't evaporate so you can eventually see it.
Tons of love, Mim
Sent February 28th:
Angel,
A brief word to advise you NOT to buy tickets for "Les Essais, d'après Montaigne". Daddy wanted to walk out halfway before the end of the play. It was turned into a Québécois burlesque farce, dans le genre of Juste Pour Rire. Appalling. The Molière was apparently in the same vein.
Mim
A/N: Too bad. I usually love the stuff produced by Le Théatre du Sous-marin Jaune," but I am inclined to believe my mother on this one, and so I gave it a miss. The last production had me in stitches.
Sent the same day, titled "A small rant about Greece & art."
Angel, re the finacial débâcle in Greece:
I understand virtually nothing about derivatives or currency trades - but I do love the new phrase, "creative accounting". Actually, I didn't even know that a country could be a client of a particular bank & its accountants.
I read in the Financial Post that Goldman Sachs creates "custom-made financial instruments" for countries on the Continent. What are those things? Do I not understand English any longer? Why can't my accountant create these lovely things for me? I will definitely suggest it to him.
And I thought the art world was dead! (Note the Whitney Biennial in NY). The art critic of the NYTimes writes it:
"... reflects the retrenched art-about-art spirit of the day". What in the world is this man saying? About the Boltansky exhibition at the Grand Palais in Paris - the one made up of old clothes. It inspires me to lay out all my old clothes on the living-room floor, making sure they point in the same direction, and presto! ART for posterity. Whoever would have thought my old underwear was worth millions.
Are all the latent Tiepolos now working for banks?
A/N: Be it known that my mother actually has a MFA, and not only is a painter, but was trained by Arthur Lismer (part of the "Group of Seven") and actually studied art history among other things. She knows whereof she speaks, in this case, and isn't just spouting off randomly.
Sent March 18th:
Angel, thought you might want to know this:
There was a very successful Tarzan exhibition at the Musée du Quai Branly in Paris in autumn last year.
Apparently the curator of the exhibition has a sense of humour. His comment on the law passed in France during the 30's banning the Tarzan movies:
"For the Catholics, it was the nudity, for the Communists, it was the fact that he was a violent, unemployed aristocrat who ate bananas."
So much for pure cartesian logic.
Trillion bises, Mim